


Innocence Died Screaming

by orphan_account



Series: From Eden: Alpha!Bucky/Omega!Reader [1]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: A/B/O, ABO, Alpha Bucky Barnes, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha/Omega, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Avengers Family, Blow Jobs, Bonding, Bucky Barnes Recovering, Bucky Barnes's Metal Arm, Claiming, Cowgirl Position, Creampie, Crushes, Cunnilingus, Dirty Talk, Drinking, Drunken Flirting, Drunken Shenanigans, Dry Humping, Dubious Consent, F/M, Falling In Love, Fingerfucking, Flirting, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Smut, Getting Together, Hand Jobs, Hurt/Comfort, Knotting, Knotting Dildos, Love Confessions, Lust, Mating Bites, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Missionary Position, Mutual Masturbation, Mutual Pining, My First Smut, Omega Verse, Oral Sex, Possessive Bucky Barnes, Pregnancy Kink, Reader-Insert, Romance, Scenting, Self-Doubt, Sexual Tension, Smut, Soul Bond, Soulmates, Team as Family, True Mates, Unresolved Sexual Tension, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, Vibrators, Woman on Top
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-30
Updated: 2019-12-30
Packaged: 2021-02-26 02:07:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,511
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21841918
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: You weren't one to listen to your inner Omega, to adhere to the expectations of your designation. So when Bucky Barnes shows up smelling so damn good, you find it hard to ignore that pesky thing called biology and not immediately jump his bones.But there may be more than just lust here, and you're going to find out.
Relationships: Avengers Team & Reader, James "Bucky" Barnes/Reader
Series: From Eden: Alpha!Bucky/Omega!Reader [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1602490
Comments: 8
Kudos: 486





	Innocence Died Screaming

**Author's Note:**

> I've been having major writers block lately, so I decided to churn this out. It's extremely self indulgent, and is also my first smut piece. So I hope you all enjoy reading it. And yes, the title is from the Hozier song "From Eden." Definitely recommend that you give it a listen!
> 
> Given that this is ABO, and a lot of the time there is a considerable amount of dub-con, please heed the tags and continue at your own risk. I'd like to think that this story doesn't have a lot of dub-con, but considering the nature of omegaverse, its kind of hard to avoid. But do note that both parties do give consent, and neither of them regret anything afterwards. It's just that ABO gives way to many consent issues.
> 
> Nonetheless, I hope you enjoy!

When people looked at you they realized two things right away.

Number one, you were an Omega. Instantly recognizable by the soft, rounded scent that your body constantly emitted.

Number two, they should immediately disregard number one because your secondary gender didn’t define you. A point you’d made clear a thousand times over to the pushy, knotheaded Alphas who were cocky enough to think you’d just keel over in submission because of your designation.

You’d fought against the traditional ‘Omega’s are weak’ bullshit since you’d had your first heat. Had been breaking the norms ever since you decided to strive for your career goals instead of staying home and bearing pups to a boring, unappreciative Alpha.

Besides, it’s not like any Alpha actually wanted you. Hell, even Betas turned you down. Once they saw past your shiny looking exterior, they dumped you like unwanted trash. They couldn’t handle your unwillingness to submit, your stubbornness, your pointed teasing. Couldn’t put up with you and your eccentricities.

Once upon a time you had believed in true mates. Believed in the idea of finding the perfect match after years of searching. When you were younger you’d stay up late imagining your soulmate. Picturing the perfect Alpha who’d sweep you off your feet with their good looks and charming personality.

That dream had long since died a slow, painful death.

But you kept your chin up, more than willing to work your ass off in order to reach your goals. And you did reach them, in a way. Going from a simple SI receptionist to Tony Stark’s own personal assistant.

You had Tony himself to thank for your promotion, or more specifically, his less-than-ideal decision making process. You’d helped him out of one hell of a bind, saving his ass from bankruptcy and—more importantly—Pepper’s wrath. (He’d long since sworn you to secrecy. But you still couldn’t mention vodquila, Celine Dion, or anything pertaining to Antarctica without him going pale in the face).

According to Tony, you had “promise,” “the right set of skills,” and, “a good taste in music.” So, with his strangely specific requirements met, you were hired as his PA.

The job was perfect. Good pay, good benefits, and you even managed to find yourself a lifelong group of friends. A family, even. Ever since the Battle of New York you’d been an unofficial member of the Avenger’s pack. It was practically inevitable considering how closely you worked with the team, you were Iron Man’s assistant, afterall.

You were the glue that kept them all together. The mother hen watching over her idiotic, incredibly dangerous chicks. You made sure they ate and slept. Used threats and persuasion to get them to take care of themselves. (There weren’t many people who’d threatened Natasha Romanov and lived to tell the tale, but you were one of them. And you lived every day in fear of what that entailed). Basically, you were a glorified babysitter, and you loved every second of it.

You had always been closest to Tony. You knew him first, after all. You’d quickly grown to care for the mouthy, sarcastic Alpha that was your boss. Learned to look past his masks to the scarred, paranoid man within. Frankly, he was a mess, but you helped him stay together. Dragging him out of his lab by the ear, locking him in his room until he went to sleep, listening attentively as he talked enthusiastically about things you couldn’t even begin to understand. You appreciated him, and he appreciated you. Win-win.

Then there was Steve. The two of you were tense at first, especially when he was at odds with Tony. But you quickly warmed up to him, and he to you. It was probably because you didn’t treat him like glass, but you didn’t get pointlessly frustrated with him either. It was a delicate balance that not many people could maintain, which explained why he found it difficult to get close to others. Being Captain America certainly didn’t help, as most people were unable to look beyond the title to the man within. He was bull headed and stubborn, something you could relate to. And you both shared similar mother hen tendencies, the two of you lovingly dubbed ‘Mom’ and ‘Dad’ by the rest of the team. Despite this, there was never anything romantic between you. And although he was more than a suitable Alpha, you both felt nothing but platonic towards one another. Which was something you had to explain to Natasha ‘Matchmaker’ Romanov a million times. (She knew this already, she just liked to see the two of you flustered).

Thor was like a big brother to you. He had no designation whatsoever—apparently it was a weird Asgardian thing—though he was more than happy to become part of the Avengers pack. He was loud, boisterous, and often misinterpreted as dumb. But that couldn’t be further from the truth. The two of you often took part in long discussions about morality and space, but within the next second he’d be chugging Asgardian mead and kicking ass at Mario Kart. It was such a quick shift that it almost gave you whiplash, but in the best possible way.

Bruce was the only other Omega—officially—on the team. As everyone else was either an Alpha or Beta. (With the exception of Thor, who was nothing). It was nice to have another Omega around, someone who could actually understand the discrimination and hardships of the designation. You were forever grateful that Natasha had managed to find him after the Ultron fiasco, as you’d be heartbroken without him. The two of you would often sit in companionable silence, drinking something hot as you talked about random stuff. His research, the book you were reading, the latest T.V. shows. It was nice, something simple to look forward to after a long day.

Clint was like your rowdy younger brother. And although he was married, he still acted like an energetic toddler sometimes. You and Laura would swap stories whenever you went to visit his farm, Clint pouting in the corner as you laughed at his expense. He was a Beta, but to you he was like another Omega. A well needed break from the overwhelming Alpha pheromones that surrounded you on a daily basis. Though he was graceful on the field, he was clumsy as hell off work. And the number of times he’d broken stuff while doing something stupid or reckless was impossible to count. You’d even started a tally at one point, but had quickly lost track after the first week. You loved him anyway.

Natasha was your best friend, your sister, your confidante. A strong Alpha woman who didn’t give two shits, and you loved her for it. You’d been inseparable since day one, with her immediately taking you under her wing and you—somehow—doing the same. Though it wasn’t in either of your job descriptions, she’d often train you in the gym. Teaching you self defense and keeping you in shape, something you complained about but were secretly thankful for. The two of you looked out for each other. Her protecting you from any physical threats, and you protecting her from the mental. It was a strange relationship, but it worked perfectly. And the two of you were instant best friends.

Sam was a much needed calming influence in your life, a chill Beta who acted as your rock. He had a way to put you immediately at ease, which was probably due to his background in the VA. He was laid back and relaxed, always cracking jokes and checking to ensure everybody was feeling alright. You made sure that he was okay as well, knowing that he had his own issues along with everyone else. If he was suffering, you’d put what little dignity you had aside and go on a run with him, letting him talk and talk as your feet pounded into the pavement. It was therapeutic for the both of you, even if you were doubled over and sweaty afterwards.

Wanda and Peter were adopted the second you lay eyes on them. In fact, you probably had adoption papers in your room somewhere, just waiting to be officiated.

The young Beta woman reminded you of yourself, and you supported her in every possible way. Assisting her in training, taking her on short little outings, calling and texting constantly like a helicopter parent. She was only a teenager, and she still had so much to explore before the harshness of reality took over.

Peter—an Omega—was absolutely precious. And you had to resist every urge to ruffle his hair and fuss over him, something you knew he’d protest but secretly love. Like Tony, you’d welcomed the Spider-Boy into your life with open arms. Offering him guidance and advice at every opportunity. You sometimes even showed up in the middle of his patrol with a sandwich from Delmar’s because, “Spiders need to eat too.”

You loved the members of your pack with every fibre of your being. Cared for them with a deep, burning passion that never flickered or died out. And yet....

You couldn’t drown out the traitorous voices in your head. The ones that said you could be easily discarded and replaced. You weren’t a hero, weren’t special, you were just a normal woman who happened to stumble into their lives.

Sometimes it felt like they all secretly hated you. Envied your normal and simple existence.

Those dark thoughts kept you up at night. Plaguing you as you lay awake in bed at the Avengers compound, fearful that at any moment FRIDAY would tell you to pack up and leave. You were scared to bring up your doubts, especially since everyone else had far more pressing issues.

You felt as if you were a burden, an unnecessary presence in their lives. And although you had proven your worth time and time again, those thoughts just wouldn’t fade.

You had helped take down countless evil entities; The Mandarin, Hydra, Ultron, all of them had been defeated due to your input. And when it came to more recent events, you were even more important. As without you, the whole Sokovian Accords debacle would have quickly gone south.

You hadn’t physically participated in the fight, you weren’t trained for that sort of thing. Instead you’d been pulling the strings behind the scenes; stalling for time, encouraging open communication, ensuring that everyone got away safely. All in all, your job was to keep everyone alive. Including the newest addition to the lineup.

James Buchanan Barnes. The Winter Soldier. Steve’s best friend. And the most Alpha Alpha you’d ever laid eyes on.

Was it wrong for you to find him attractive? He was just so sinfully _hot_ , you couldn’t help it. The idea of his scent made your mouth water, the curve of his ass made your knees weak, and that jawline was to die for.

But there was one small, tiny issue.

You’d never actually met him.

You’d only seen him in pictures, in spotty surveillance footage and grainy photos from the 40s. You weren’t even able to give him your name, let alone get to know him.

Granted, he’d been too busy fleeing for his life to introduce himself.

You hadn’t seen him since the airport fight, since he’d flown off to Siberia with Cap. You knew he was hiding out in Wakanda, but even when the other Rogues had returned he had remained there. Wakanda was a beautiful country. And although you’d never actually visited, the few pictures you’d seen depicted a place of grace and majesty.

You respected his decision. Understood it, even. You knew the horrific things he had experienced, the terrible things that had been forced upon him, the tremendous amount of guilt and shame that he bore. It was heartbreaking.

He deserved to be somewhere beautiful, a place where he could find himself.

And so, you made peace with the fact that you would likely never meet him. Never actually see the Alpha who you were so uncharacteristically drawn to.

So when he just waltzed into the compound one day, you were more than a little surprised.

“Everyone say hello to Bucky!” Steve announced cheerily, the two men walking into the lounge area, “he’s coming to stay with us for awhile.”

You turned around to look at him and…Jesus Christ, he was hotter than you expected. How was that even remotely fair?

Your eyes eagerly roamed over his muscular frame, sweeping up and down appreciatively. Cataloguing his broad shoulders, taut abdomen, Wakandan vibranium arm, and long flowing hair. Eyes lingering at the jut of his hips and the bunching of his thighs.

You subtly scented the air in hopes of catching a whiff of his aroma, disappointed when all you detected was the familiar smell of your packmates. Far from the earthy, spicy musk you were anticipating.

You scanned over his face admiringly. Noting the light stubble that dotted his jaw, the pink flesh of his lips, and the steely grey of his eyes.

Once again, _Jesus Christ._

Your blatant staring was interrupted when Sam spoke, “Hey Barnes, how’re the goats?”

Goats? That was...absolutely adorable and not at all what you were expecting.

“Good,” he answered dismissively, hands shoved into his pockets as he awkwardly stood beside Steve. A pile of suitcases lay beside him, too tall for a visit but too short to indicate a permanent move.

The rest of the team soon dragged Bucky into conversation, engaging him in menial small talk. You stood off to the side, silently observing and stealing a few glances at his frankly amazing ass.

Eventually the conversation petered off and everyone returned to their previous tasks, leaving Bucky free to talk. You caught his eye and waved him over, smiling invitingly as he took a seat beside you on the couch.

Now that he was closer, his distinct lack of scent was glaringly obvious. A major disappointment to your internal Omega. He was likely on very strong suppressants, even more potent than the ones you were currently taking. You’d been taking heavy suppressants for years, not that you had much of a choice. An unmated Omega on a team primarily composed of Alphas? Typically not a good combination.

“So,” you began, “goats.” He raised a brow. “You look like a sheep kind of guy, if you ask me.”

He smiled softly, “goats are alright. Selfish little bastards, but alright.”

You chuckled and tilted your head to the side in amusement. “What are their names?”

He seemed to perk up a bit at that, much more comfortable talking about his goats than himself. He was clearly still feeling awkward, but he seemed to be relaxing as the conversation went on. Unwinding little by little. Time seemed to fly by as you talked to one another, conversation coming as easily as if you’d known each other for years.

“Oh god,” he said suddenly, smacking a hand to his forehead, “I’m sorry, I completely forgot to ask for your name,” he babbled apologetically.

“Don’t worry about it,” you said reassuringly, dismissing his apologies with a wave of your hand. “Happens to everyone.”

You told him your name and he repeated it back to you. And good god, it sounded so delicious coming from his lips.

“Wait,” his eyes widened in realization. “Aren't you the one who got everyone cleared?”

“More like argued with a bunch of old, power hungry Alphas,” you shrugged, downplaying the work you’d done to clear the charges against him and the other Rogue Avengers.

Bucky snorted at your response, nodding in agreement and understanding, “Steve talked about you a lot. They all did.”

You raised your eyebrows in alarm, “Oh no. Steve didn’t tell you about…”

“December 2013? He did.”

You groaned, “that little shit. He said he’d never mention it again.”

“He’s a punk.”

“You can say that again.”

“Total punk,” he repeated mischievously, a delectable smirk tugging at his lips. His expression shifted to something softer, “thanks, though.” His gaze locked with yours, “You didn’t have to clean up after us.” The ‘you didn’t have to clean up after me,’ was left unspoken.

You smiled warmly at him, laying a gentle hand on his right shoulder. Surprisingly, he didn’t draw away, instead leaning into your touch ever so slightly. “It’s really not an issue, any decent person would’ve done the same.”

“No, no they wouldn’t have,” he said sadly. Eyes cast downwards, his lips pressed into a thin line.

“Then they’re all just a bunch of assholes,” you declared, accentuating your words with a dramatic sweep of your hand.

His serious expression melted away as he laughed, a deep baritone rumble that made you shiver in delight. Even his laugh was ridiculously sexy.

Feeling bold, you sidled closer to him. Hesitantly tucking yourself into his side and pressing up against him. He didn’t move away, instead wrapping an arm around your shoulders and pulling you close.

You’d only known each other for an hour, but you’d already managed to forge a deep and meaningful connection. It was as if some sort of cosmic force was bringing you two together, a magnetic attraction drawing you into each other’s orbit.

It just felt so right, so absolutely natural and true. You couldn’t fight it if you tried.

You buried your nose into his clothed shoulder, snuggling deeper into his warmth. Your breath hitched, air catching in your throat as you unintentionally inhaled the weak scent of his pheromones.

As suppressed as the scent was, it was still enough to make your pulse flutter and eyes roll. It smelt like a mix of leather, sage, and the musky loam of fresh dirt. With a sweet undercurrent of something citrusy and tangy.

You wanted to burrow deeper into his heavenly scent and never come up for air. Nose into his scent gland and bite down, breaking the tender skin and—Jesus Christ where did that come from?

As alarming as that intrusive thought was, you somehow weren’t too put off by it. It just sounded so right. And your inner Omega purred at the idea of claiming the irresistible Alpha as your own.

“Hey, Buck,” Steve called from the other side of the room, interrupting the moment, “let me show you to your room.”

The two of you reluctantly pulled apart, awkwardly untangling your entwined limbs. You almost whined at the sudden loss of his warmth, shivering slightly from the chill of the room.

Bucky stood up from the couch and stretched, ‘accidentally’ flashing you his toned stomach. He fixed you with a devilish smirk. “See you around, doll,” he smirked, picking up his bags and leaving the room, Steve following right behind him.

You blinked dumbly, your brain foggy from the cocktail of pheromones bouncing around your skull. Staring after him with a love struck, giddy expression on your face.

“Somebody’s got a crush,” Natasha hollered, thankfully quiet enough that Bucky couldn’t hear.

You shushed her indignantly, face flushed with embarrassment. Sam wolf whistled loudly, grinning maniacally as you hid your face in your hands. Hot with shame and something else that curled low in your belly.

This was certainly going to be interesting.

* * * *

Sweat dripped down your back, your sports bra plastered stickily to your skin. Arms pumping, feet pounding against the treadmill as you jogged at a steady pace. Your earbuds blasted loud tunes into your ears, drowning out your own heavy breathing.

There was no more work to be done, no more calls to make or paperwork to be filed. You finally—finally—had some time to yourself, and you had decided to spend it at the compound’s gym. The rest of the team was away on a mission, so no one else was there to judge you,

No one, that is, except for Bucky.

He was the only one who hadn’t gone on the mission. In fact, he hadn’t gone on any missions since arriving at the compound. His first request upon returning was to not be placed on the Avengers roster, a request which was immediately granted. He was only there to heal, to flourish in the familiarity and safety the team could provide.

And boy, did you guys provide it.

He’d been living at the compound for several weeks now. Slowly growing more comfortable with the team and beginning to let his guard down around them. And yet, he still spent most of his time alone in his room. Adamantly refusing to let anyone but Steve inside. You didn’t judge him for it. It was understandable that he’d wish to spend so much time on his own. But you made it clear that there was no need for him to isolate himself.

It appeared that he took your words to heart. As every once in a while he’d venture out of his room and fraternize with everybody else, even if it was only for a few minutes.

Speaking of which, he’d usually be in the gym at this hour. Where could he—

A sudden tap on your shoulder startled you out of your thoughts. You pulled out your earbuds and looked over, smiling widely when you realized who it was.

“Hey Buck,” you greeted, slowing the treadmill to a stop and stepping off.

“Hi,” he answered, smiling at you. “Didn’t think you’d be here.”

Your tongue swept over your lips as you admired him, drinking in the tight fit of his shirt and the short cut of his pants. Damn, even old gym clothes looked good on him. If it weren’t for your suppressants, the scent of your arousal would be more obvious than a sledgehammer to the face.

Somehow, your brain managed to function. “I’m just as surprised as you are,” you joked, wiping the sweat off your brow with the back of your hand. “Working out isn’t really my thing.”

“You seem to be doing just fine,” he said kindly.

You scoffed, “I’m literally drowning in my own sweat.”

“I dunno,” he smirked amorously, “I think you look great.”

Your face heated ever so slightly at the compliment, and you struggled to come up with a response, “Sure, Barnes. Let me guess, ‘I don’t sweat, I sparkle.’”

“Oh no, you definitely sweat,” he teased, and you swatted at him indignantly.

“Rude much?” You pouted, “at least Natasha doesn’t get my hopes up.”

He looked at you questioningly.

“Oh, Natasha’s my physical trainer,” you explained, “she shows affection by knocking me flat on my ass.”

“Sounds like her,” he chuckled.

“I have never taken her down in a match, ever,” you griped. He laughed at your expense, and you glared at him playfully, “One day I’ll win against her, mark my words,” you swore, laying a hand solemnly over your heart.

“Whatever you say, doll,” he teased, mockingly laying a hand over his own heart. Even though he was poking fun at you, the affectionate nickname made you feel warm and tingly inside.

Suddenly, an idea hit you, “could you help me train? Maybe we could spar a little?”

“Uh,” he mumbled uncomfortably, his demeanor shifting immediately. His smile becoming tight and forced.

You quickly backtracked after noticing his discomfort. “Never mind,” you apologized, “you don’t have to.” You were such an idiot. You knew that he still felt like a threat to others, no matter how many times he was assured otherwise. Obviously he wouldn’t agree, why would he even waste his time with someone as weak as you? Stupid, stupid, stupid. “I’ll just leave.”

You grabbed your water bottle and started to head out the door. Guilt and shame settling deep in your gut.

“Wait,” Bucky called after you, reaching out beseechingly, “Don’t go. I’ll—I’ll spar with you.”

You turned back to face him, a pang of guilt running through you from the conflicted look on his face. “Are you sure?” You asked, worried that you were pressuring him into agreeing

“Yeah,” he nodded, seeming more sure of himself. He masked his remaining worry by twisting his lips up into a smirk, “think you can handle me?”

You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding, relieved that he hadn’t been offended by your request. “I might just surprise you,” you said suggestively, eyes panning over his perfectly sculpted body.

He tugged his lower lip between his teeth, gaze roaming distractedly over your figure. Your inner Omega preened at the attention, practically purring from his silent approval.

Bucky tore his eyes away from you, tongue darting out to lick at his chapped lips. He walked over to the mats and began to prepare for the match, puffing out his chest in typical Alpha fashion as he stretched out his muscles. Normally you’d be annoyed by all the showing off, but you now found it vaguely attractive.

You tried to avert your eyes from Bucky’s little show, only stealing a quick peek or two when you thought you could get away with it. You tossed your phone and water bottle to the side and moved to get ready. Pulling on protective gear with practiced ease, wrapping your hands and slipping a mouthguard between your teeth. While you trusted him not to harm you, it wouldn’t hurt for you to bulk up. Plus, the excessive amount of defensive padding would help reassure Bucky that you were safe.

Now that you were fully decked out, you sauntered over to him with an extra sway to your hips. As you approached, he stopped his stretching and turned to face you.

“Ready?” He asked, slipping into a fighting position.

“Ready,” you answered, your voice muffled from the mouthguard. Bouncing on your toes as you shifted your weight from side to side, hands held up in a protective stance.

He lurched towards you and jabbed at your side, the punch weak and flimsy when compared to his usual strength. You blocked it easily and darted forward, landing a hit on his jaw and backing away before he could retaliate.

That certainly impressed him, a spark of pride and something darker flashing in his eyes. A lopsided grin spread across his face, “sold yourself short back there, doll face.”

You snorted, the sound wet and muffled from behind the mouth guard. You moved to throw another punch while he was semi-distracted.

But he was prepared this time, no longer underestimating your skills. He ducked down and jabbed at your stomach, putting more force behind the blow than earlier. You doubled over in pain, giving him an opportunity to sweep your legs out from beneath you.

You didn’t expect to win. You’d be kidding yourself if you said that you had a chance against him. But you were dead set on proving to him—and yourself—that you were capable. That you weren’t as weak as you believed yourself to be.

You used the momentum from the fall to duck and roll, rising to your haunches and throwing yourself at his legs. He stumbled slightly, thrown off balance from the attack. You used the opening to wrap your arms around his waist, jerking him to the side and dragging him closer to the floor.

He escaped from your grip and aimed a hit at your stomach, the punch glancing off and clipping your abdomen. You winced and jabbed at his chest, simultaneously throwing a kick to his crotch. Unfortunately—or maybe fortunately—you missed.

Bucky whistled lowly, “you fight dirty.”

“That’s just my style,” you winked, the mouthguard negating the suggestive purr to your words.

Maybe your ears were deceiving you, but a deep growl seemed to rumble from his chest at your words. He grabbed your shoulder with his prosthetic and roughly pushed you downwards, knocking you to the ground with a few strategic punches and jabs.

Before you could even blink, he had pinned you to the floor. Your back pressed against the mat, arms pinned over your head, legs held down with his weight. You grunted in annoyance and pain, your inner Omega screaming in delight due to the warm firmness pressed against you

“Do you yield?” He asked cockily, squeezing your wrists to remind you of your prone position.

You turned your head to the side and spat out your mouthguard. Not the sexiest thing you’d ever done, but looking attractive wasn’t your priority at the moment. “Make me.”

“Pretty sure I already did,” he mused, legs straddled tantalizingly over your hips.

You fixed him with an unimpressed look. Eyes tracking the single droplet of sweat trickling down his jawline, suppressing the urge to lick up the salty trail. Your chest heaved, each breath filling your nose with the faint scent of the Alpha looming just above. The musky smell of leather and sage assaulting your senses.

Bucky remained stubbornly atop you, refusing to move a muscle until you admitted defeat.

“Fine,” you sighed, “I yield.”

He grinned coyly, slipping off of you and offering you his hand. You accepted the help and he hoisted you to your feet, clapping you on the back and knocking the air out of your lungs.

“You’ll take down Natasha in no time,” he complimented, holding onto your hand for a little longer than necessary before letting go.

“If you say so,” you said shyly, face heating from his words. You could deal with hardcore flirting, but simple compliments were just too much. Trying to distract yourself from his roguish charm, you staggered over to your water bottle and eagerly twisted off the cap, bringing it up to your lips, “damn it.”

“What’s wrong?” He asked worriedly, brows knitting together in concern.

“It’s nothing,” you shook your head, placing the cap back on the bottle, “just out of water.”

“Here,” he tossed you his own plastic bottle without a moment's hesitation.

“You sure?” You asked, waiting for his assurance before taking a sip.

“‘Course,” he rolled his eyes exaggeratingly, “it's just water.”

With his permission, you flicked off the cap and took a long swallow, the icy water refreshing to your parched throat. You drank what you wanted and held out the bottle to Bucky, wiping the excess water off of your chin with your hand.

“Keep it,” he shrugged, “I don’t need it.”

You were too thirsty to question him further, downing the rest of the bottle in one long gulp and tossing it in the trash. “Thanks.”

You glanced over and noticed how Bucky had subtly puffed out his chest, a pleased expression on his face. “Glad to help.”

Your inner Omega swooned. _Look at that! An Alpha providing for his Omega!_

 _He’s not yours, idiot._ You seethed internally.

_But he could be._

You couldn’t argue with that.

* * * *

Insomnia is a bitch.

All of your packmates struggled with it, and you did as well. You were used to the bouts of sleeplessness and exhaustion. To being kept awake by your crippling insecurities and fears. You would spend those long sleepless nights working, slaving away until you either fell asleep or the sun rose over the horizon. If you were going to stay up all night, you might as well be productive.

And that’s what you were doing now. Curled up on the lounge room couch, huddled beneath a woolen blanket, typing away at your laptop as you drew up Tony’s schedule for the week.

You were so engrossed in your work that you didn’t even notice him at first.

“Hey,” Bucky called softly, standing in the doorway and leaning against the frame. You could hardly even see him in the darkness of the room, as he blended in with the shadows as if he were one.

You looked up from the laptop and squinted at him, “you look like shit.”

He huffed a laugh, the sound self deprecating and wistful. His eyes were sunken in and dark, half-lidded in sheer exhaustion. Hair still wet from what was undoubtedly a long, burning hot shower. He was barefoot, clad only in loose fitting sweatpants and a baggy sweatshirt. The pants hung low around his waist and the sweatshirt was several sizes too big, so he looked both sexy and adorable. In a messy sort of way.

“Can’t sleep?” you asked politely, already knowing the answer.

“No.” You knew exactly what was bothering him; nightmares. Everyone had them, including you. A full, restful night’s sleep in the Avenger’s compound was equivalent to winning the lottery. Amazing, but nearly impossible.

“Want to talk about it?” You offered.

“Not really,” he answered quietly, still standing in the doorway. Unsure whether to come in or not.

“Alright.” You closed the laptop and placed it on the nearby coffee table, patting the space beside you on the couch and inviting him to sit next to you.

“I don’t want to be a bother,” he said uncertainly, wringing his hands together.

“I was just working on Tony’s schedule, he’s going to ignore it anyway,” you persisted. “It’s really not a big deal.”

Admitting defeat, he hesitantly made his way over. Tentatively lowering himself onto the couch next to you, his posture stiff as he kept his distance. He stared down at his hands, refusing to make eye contact as he shifted uncomfortably.

“Do you want some tea?” You asked, trying to relieve the tension. Standing up from the couch and looking to him for an answer.

“You don’t have--” he began to protest.

“I’m getting some for myself as well,” you interrupted, walking over to the joint kitchen. “Don’t worry about it.”

“Oh, okay then,” he said shyly.

“Do you have a preference?” You called back to him, grabbing two mugs and filling them with water. You placed the cups in the microwave and turned it on, the soft mechanical whirring echoing throughout the room as it ran. A sharp beep sounded as the timer ran out, and you pulled the heated mugs from the microwave.

“Whatever you want, doll,” he answered vaguely

With that very helpful suggestion, you plucked two tea sachets from the pantry and placed each of them in a cup to steep. Adding a generous drizzle of honey and stirring it all together with a spoon. You walked back into the lounge room with the tea in hand, handing one of the mugs to Bucky as you took a seat beside him.

“It’s lemon and lavender,” you told him, taking a careful sip of your own drink. “It’s supposed to help with relaxation, and stuff.”

“Thanks,” he whispered. Clutching the mug in both hands as he breathed in the herbal aroma, looking as if the smell reminded him of something pleasant and enjoyable. He took a cautious sip of the piping hot beverage and sighed. “It's good.”

“I’m glad,” you smiled at him, bringing your cup to your grinning lips and taking another swallow.

You both drank in comfortable silence, the two of you finding solace in one another. He seemed to be relaxing as time went on, leaning closer to you until you were pressed up against one another. His faint, musky Alpha scent drifting into your nose.

With a soft inhalation of breath, Bucky began to speak. “I…I have nightmares,” he admitted quietly, staring into his mug. You looked at him encouragingly, nodding with understanding as you urged him to continue at his own pace. “Most of the time I’m reliving what…what I’ve done.” He swallowed harshly, metal hand gripping the mug so hard it almost broke apart. “But sometimes, it’s just…cold.” He gritted his teeth, shivering in reminiscion. “It’s like I’m back in cyro again. I can’t move, can’t breathe, can’t think.” His shoulders hunch forward, hair falling in curtains around his face. “And even when I wake up, it won’t go away. It won’t.”

You took the mug out of his lax hands, placing it on the coffee table along with your own. Gently, oh so gently, you wrapped your arms around him in a hug. Leaning your head on his shoulder as you rubbed his back soothingly. Hesitantly, he returned your embrace. Laying his palms flat on your back as he pulled you closer to him.

“Thank you for telling me,” you said quietly.

He nodded slightly, resting his cheek on your head. You breathed in his scent, relishing in the smell of burning sage and oiled leather. You grabbed the nearby discarded blanket and draped it over the both of you, hoping to warm him up by sharing your body heat. Your scents mixed from the close contact, fusing together deliciously beneath the blanket.

His body slowly relaxed against yours, weighing heavily atop you as he fell into a restful doze. Carefully, you leaned back against the couch, settling into a more comfortable position. Letting your eyelids slide shut as you nuzzled into his clothed collarbone.

You’d never felt more at home. Had never felt more content, safety and warmth roiling through you in gentle waves. A pleasant fuzziness overtook your mind like pins and needles, thrumming like a second heartbeat. It was an intoxicating feeling, something you couldn’t seem to get enough of.

And it was all because of Bucky.

It was his presence that made you feel so peculiar, so wonderfully whole and purposeful. But what could it mean? Sure, you were attracted to the man. Who wasn’t? But this was more than just pure lust. Something deeper than a simple crush. So what exactly could it—

Oh no.

_Oh no._

You tensed at the realization, your arms tightening uncomfortably around Bucky's middle as you panicked. He stirred in his sleep, eyelids fluttering open worriedly due to your distress. You shushed him gently, humming softly in his ear in order to lull him back to sleep. He soon slipped back under, leaving you to mull over what you had just realized.

You were undeniably, irrevocably in love with Bucky Barnes.

And there was undeniably, irrevocably nothing you could do about it.

* * * *

You were walking by the lounge when you heard your name being called.

“There she is! Mother Goose!” Tony enthusiastically waved you over, using your nickname to entice you, “come and join the party!”

It looked like everyone was prepared for a night of drinking, if the wide array of drinks laid out on the coffee table was any indication. Everyone was seated around the room--excluding Thor, who was off somewhere in space--but there was one obvious open seat.

“Tony, you have a meeting scheduled for eight o’ clock tomorrow morning,” you reminded him. “You and I both know this isn’t a good idea.”

“Like I ever go to those,” he shrugged. “Please?”

You sighed heavily. “FRIDAY, move Tony’s eight o’ clock to nine,” you took a second look at all the drinks, “on second thought, move it to eleven.”

“Atta girl!” he cheered, pumping a fist dramatically in the air.

You sighed again, taking a seat next to Bucky on the couch. Nervous butterflies fluttering in your stomach at your close proximity. “I already regret everything.”

“Nonsense,” Tony shook his head, “Besides, I got something that will make it all worthwhile,” he reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a comically large flask.

“Vodquila?” you teased lightly.

His face paled almost immediately, “don’t you dare.”

An evil smile curled your lips, “FRIDAY, play _My Heart Will Go On_.”

“No!” he shouted just before the first note played. The rest of the team looked on in confusion as you cackled maniacally.

“I’ll tell you later,” you whispered to Bucky.

“You better,” he answered, fixing you with a befuddled, yet intrigued, look.

“You will not!” Tony squawked indignantly, and you laughed at his fearful expression. “I’ll have you know that it is not vodquila.” He paused to glare at you. “But is actually Asgardian mead.”

“I thought that wasn’t meant for mortals,” Steve pointed out, logically. “Where’d you even get it?”

“Lighten up, will you?” Tony said exasperatedly, “I simply borrowed some from our good friend Thor.”

“I can already see this going wrong. I’m out,” you stood to leave.

“Aw, c’mon doll,” Bucky called after you, “don’t leave me with Sam.” His tone was playful, but there was a pleading note that made you sit back down.

“Fuck you, Barnes,” Sam huffed from beside him, a teasing grin spreading across his face. Bucky narrowed his eyes, glaring at Sam jokingly and crossing his arms in annoyance. You giggled and leaned into Bucky’s side, his stance relaxing ever so slightly with your touch.

“Well, now that we’ve got that settled,” Tony opened the flask and began pouring everyone a drink, “let’s begin.”

You reached out with everyone else and grabbed a glass, swirling the amber liquid around and eyeing it curiously. You took a hesitant sniff, and your nose scrunched up from the aroma. It was heady and pungent, with a bitter edge that stung your nostrils. Not unpleasant, but certainly unexpected.

You raised the cup in a toast. “To bad decisions.”

“Cheers,” everyone echoed, downing the drinks as one.

Your face screwed up at the initial bitter flavor. The sharp bite of the drink burning your throat as it ran down. But the aftertaste was rather pleasant. Delicious, even. Spicy cider and cinnamon, with a golden warmth that heated your insides.

“How do you feel?” Bucky asked.

“I dunno,” you held out your glass to be refilled, and Tony happily obliged, “not feeling anything yet.”

* * * *

“Still...still not--not feeling nothing!” you proclaimed loudly, balancing on the arm of the couch, teetering back and forth as you struggled to remain on your feet. Bucky watched nervously from his seat as you swayed, his eyes following your every move. Everyone else had either passed out, retired to their rooms, or was stone cold sober (in the case of Steve and Bucky).

“You sure about that?” he asked, raising a mocking brow.

“Yep!” you chirped, looking as if you were about to topple over, “never...never been gooder!”

“Gooder.”

“Yep!”

“You should come down from there, you’re gonna fall,” he advised, arms outstretched preemptively in the event you fell over.

“Nope!” you popped the ‘p’ with unnecessary emphasis, “you can’t make me!”

With ingenious comedic timing you toppled forward, falling directly into Bucky’s lap with a heavy thump. He immediately went to catch you, cradling you in his arms like a baby.

“Whoops,” you said sheepishly.

“Be careful,” he said sternly, a hint of worry flashing in his eyes.

“‘M always careful,” you slurred, “‘specially around you,” you poked him in the chest with your finger. Poke, poke, poke.

“Why?” he looked almost nervous, fearful of your answer.

“Don’t want you to hate me,” you answered honestly, “everyone else does.”

“No one hates you,” he said reassuringly, rubbing your back soothingly.

“They keep it a secret,” you whispered conspiratorially, “shush.” You placed a finger on his lips, pressing against the soft skin.

“No one hates you,” he said again, voice firm and resolute. His lips moving against your finger.

“‘Kay,” you nodded, pulling your finger away, “trust you.”

He swallowed tightly at your admission. His grip on you subtly growing tighter, pulling you closer to him.

You burrowed into his shoulder blade, gleefully inhaling his comforting scent. The familiar smell of sage, leather, and fresh earth overwhelmed your senses, as well as an undercurrent of something fruity and tangy that you hadn’t yet--

“Plums,” you said aloud in realization.

“What.”

“That’s what you smell like,” you explained, blinking up at him from behind your lashes, “plums.”

“What—what else do I smell like?” he asked awkwardly, wanting to know the answer but feeling weird for asking.

“Dirt,” you said with drunken bluntness.

“Oh.”

“Not like that,” you giggled, “the good kind.” As if that explained everything. “You also smell like leather and....and that herb you burn....y’know....”

“Sage?”

“Yeah!” you grinned widely, “it’s nice. Safe.”

“Oh,” he blushed ever so slightly, cheeks turning a pinkish rouge, his fingers drumming nervously against your back.

“What about me?” You wondered, playing with the fabric of his shirt.

“Uh,” the blush darkened, “Like lavender and lemongrass, and the air before it rains.” It seemed like he was admitting something deeply personal, an almost nostalgic look on his face.

“Huh,” you breathed, imagining what that smelled like. Distractedly running your fingers through his hair, fingering the dark locks with innocent curiosity.

He sighed tiredly, adjusting his grip on you so you were nestled more comfortably in his lap.

“‘S soft,” you said with childlike awe, twirling a strand between your fingers. You clumsily began to braid it, eyes narrowed in hyper focus as you worked. Tongue peeking out from between your teeth in concentration.

“What’re you doing now,” he asked, speaking mostly to himself.

“Making you handsome-er,” you explained as if it were obvious. With a final flourish you finished styling his hair, “ta-da!”

“Wow,” he said indulgingly.

“You didn’t even look,” you pouted.

“No, I’m looking,” he obviously lied, but that was enough to fool drunk you.

“Good,” you huffed, pulling at the end of the braid, “‘cause I worked really hard on it.”

“Uh-huh.”

With one particularly hard tug, the messy braid came undone. “Oh no,” you whined childishly, pressing your nose into his hair, “I broke it.”

“It’s alright,” he soothed, petting the back of your head.

“‘M sorry,” you mumbled into his hair, turning your head so your breath ghosted over his scent gland.

He shivered imperceptibly, “don’t apologize, you did nothing wrong.”

“‘Kay,” you whispered, voice heavy with exhaustion and eyes glazed over in a drunken haze. “‘M going to bed now.”

“Really.”

“G’night,” you curled up in his lap and tucked your head beneath his chin, yawning widely and letting your eyes fall shut.

“Don’t you want to go to your room?”

“No,” you whined pitifully, “comfy.” You patted his chest sleepily to punctuate your words.

He sighed once more in defeat, settling back against the couch and draping a nearby blanket over the both of you. You cooed in excitement, shimmying about in delight from the added warmth. “Stay still,” he warned, teeth gritted and jaw ticking.

You blinked at him innocently, wiggling your hips rebelliously and pushing down against his crotch.

“Oh no,” his eyes widened, grabbing you by the hips and pivoting you so you were off his lap. “Stay there.”

You whined in the back of your throat, resting your head against the cool metal of his prosthetic. “Please?” you stuck your lower lip out childishly.

He sighed your name in exasperation, “no.”

You pouted some more.

“Fine,” he relented, “but you have to behave.”

“Yay!” you cheered, clambering back into his lap and burrowing into his chest. “Thanks, lo--” a large yawn interrupted your words “--you.”

You were fast asleep before he could ask what you said.

* * * *

“I regret everything,” you bemoaned, pouring yourself a cup of hot coffee and eagerly gulping it down. You were absolutely miserable. The kitchen lights were too bright, the chair you were sitting on was too hard, the marble countertop was too cold, and the whirring of the heater was far too loud. You just wanted to curl up and fall asleep, but your aching head and stomach wouldn’t let you.

“You said that already,” Bucky teased, passing you a plate of buttered toast, “about a thousand times.”

“And I’ll say it a thousand more,” you responded bitterly, tearing into a slice of toast, “I’m never drinking again.”

It was one thing to wake up with the hangover to end all hangovers, but waking up in Bucky’s lap? That was something else entirely. Last night was just a fuzzy haze, and you had no recollection of what had happened after the first drink. Surely nothing too bad had occurred, considering that Bucky was still talking to you.

“Thanks again, for watching my drunk ass,” you said gratefully, raising the coffee mug in a sardonic toast before taking another sip.

“Anytime,” he smiled warmly at you.

“And I’m sorry about all the shit you had to put up with,” you added, “drunk me is a handful.”

“It wasn’t a big deal,” he shrugged, but the slight blush dusting his cheeks betrayed the lie. Oh god, what did you--

“Welcome back to the land of the living!” Sam teased as he entered the kitchen, pouring himself a glass of orange juice from the fridge. “Glad to see you in one piece.”

You pinched the bridge of your nose as you tried to stifle your pounding headache, “how the hell are you so chipper?”

“Two words,” he answered seriously, “Good. Genes.”

“Fuck you, Sam,” you griped, flipping him off as you wolfed down another slice of toast.

“Gladly,” he waggled his eyebrows suggestively at you, and you chuckled good naturedly. Pelting him with the leftover toast crusts and laughing as he caught and ate them.

A low growl suddenly sounded from beside you, sending an involuntary shiver up your spine. You turned towards the sound—towards Bucky—and marveled at the expression on his face.

It was nothing short of predatorial, a dark and primal look that made you shudder in both arousal and fear. His possessiveness made your inner Omega swoon with delight, and you had to suppress the urge to bare your neck in submission. His chest was puffed out, nostrils flared in a typical Alpha display of dominance. Lips pulled back in a sneer and a fearsome growl rumbling deep in his chest. His pheromones were absolutely haywire, growing strong enough that you could easily pinpoint his scent.

He glared warningly at Sam, eyes flashing like steely flint as his growling steadily grew louder. Despite the intimidation, Sam knew better than to back down. “Relax, Barnes. Just because you’re almost in rut doesn’t mean you can act like a knothead.”

Bucky growled again, hackles rising as he glowered at poor Sam. You laid a gentle hand on Bucky’s shoulder, cooing softly like a traditional Omega would in order to calm him down.

_I’m alright. Everything’s alright. Calm down._

That seemed to do the trick. Almost immediately he relaxed, growls ceasing and stance loosening as he leaned into your touch, a dreamy expression flitting across his face. He shook his head as if to clear it and pulled away. “Sorry,” he apologized, and you waved your hand in dismissal.

“Don’t worry about it,” Sam shrugged, finishing off his juice and placing the glass in the sink, “biology sucks.” Bucky snorted half heartedly, massaging his temples with the tips of his fingers as he pointedly avoided eye contact. “And that’s my cue to leave,” Sam said to no one in particular, wisely ducking out of the room.

Silence stretched between the two of you like a rubber band, both of you unsure of what to say next. You sipped at your coffee, distracting yourself from the awkwardness with the bitter flavor and scalding temperature.

“So…” you began, desperate to fill the silence, “you’re almost in rut?”

“Yeah.” The awkwardness still remained, even more palpable than before.

“Thought you were on suppressants.”

“Been lowering the dosage every week,” he explained. That explained a lot, as his scent had grown slowly more prominent over time. “‘Bout to have my first rut in seventy years.”

You whistled lowly. “Sounds fun,” you said sarcastically.

“Tell me about it,” he huffed, carding a hand through his hair, “Stark’s pulling all the stops, making sure I don’t accidentally hurt anyone.” He looked over to you. “Especially you.”

“I can handle myself.”

“I know, doll,” he said placatingly, “but I couldn’t live with myself if I hurt you. Even if it was just a scratch.”

You took his flesh hand and squeezed reassuringly. “I know you’d never hurt me,” you said with absolute certainty, leaving no room for debate.

He let out a shaky exhale, “But I can’t take that chance.” He shook his head sadly. “I’ll be locked in my room until it’s over.”

“You don’t always have to lock yourself away,” you said, almost pleadingly. “But if it makes you feel better, I’ll keep my distance.”

“Thank you,” he sighed in relief, “just...thank you.”

 _You don’t have to go through this alone._ Your inner Omega cried out. The idea of him going through such a grueling experience by himself distressing you immensely.

But before you could say anything, he was gone.

* * * *

“Tony, I have some things you need to sign,” you announced as you walked into the lounge room. The man in question was sprawled across one of the couches, the rest of the team sitting around him as they watched a movie. There was one member in particular missing, but you dismissed it.

A pang of rejection ran through you as you realized they’d gathered without you.

“Can’t it wait?” Tony complained, sitting up to face you. “It’s almost over!”

“The movie just started,” Bruce pointed out.

“Snitch,” Tony grumbled, falling back against the couch.

“Tony,” you sighed, waving the papers for emphasis, “it definitely cannot wait. You were supposed to sign off on these designs a week ago.”

“Oops,” he smiled sheepishly at you, shrugging his shoulders.

You took a deep breath in, your head growing fuzzy from some mysterious aerosol. You shook your head to clear it, writing off the feeling as exhaustion and annoyance. “Did you even look at them?”

“I’m a busy man!” Tony said defensively. “Sometimes these things just slip past me!”

You pinched the bridge of your nose between your fingers, fighting off the numbing fog that had settled over your mind. Painful cramps had just started up in your abdomen as well, the pain slowly building up in a crescendo. As if that weren’t enough, an annoyingly distracting scent was saturating the air, and none of your packmates had appeared to notice it. “Okay...let me just,” you swayed on your feet, struggling to regain your bearings.

“You okay?” Steve inquired, brow creased with worry.

“I’m fine,” you said sharply, “I just need to sit down for a second.”

All of a sudden, a horrific cramp rolled through your gut, your stomach muscles clenching torturously. You let out a cry of pain and fell to the floor, papers scattering across the room.

Luckily, Natasha was able to get to you in time. Just barely grabbing you by the arm and lowering you to the floor. The rest of your packmates were quick to respond, rushing to your side as soon as you fell.

“FRI, what’s wrong with her,” Tony asked, fear tinting his voice.

_“She appears to be in heat, boss. Her symptoms resemble those two to three days in cycle.”_

“Is that normal for Omegas?” Tony turned to Bruce.

Bruce’s eyes were wide with thinly veiled worry, “No!” he exclaimed, “that is the exact opposite of normal!”

“Bruce, calm down,” Natasha warned, “we don’t need the Other Guy right now.”

“Yes, okay,” Bruce took a calming breath, kneeling beside you and gingerly checking your pulse. You whimpered at the contact, his hand painfully hot against your heated skin. “How could this have happened so suddenly? Are you on suppressants?”

“Yeah,” you gritted out, biting off a sob as another cramp seized you.

“When was your last heat?”

You thought about it for a moment, “eight months ago.”

“Is _that_ normal?” Tony asked.

“No, that is not normal,” Bruce fixed you with a judging look, “you can’t be putting off your heats for that long.”

“Can’t you just give me a pill?” you asked. _Begged_ , even.

He looked at you piteously, “it’s been so long since your last heat, you’ll need to ride it out naturally.”

“Shit,” you groaned, clutching your stomach and curling into the fetal position as another painful wave rolled through you. A throbbing ache began in your core, an instinctual need that had you rubbing your thighs together in desperation. An embarrassing amount of slick soaked through your underwear, pooling onto the floor in a sticky mess.

“How could she have burned through her suppressants so quickly?” Clint wondered, “There’s no way they could’ve worn off fast enough for...that,” he gestured widely in your direction.

 _“If I may interrupt,”_ FRIDAY interjected, _“Sergeant Barnes has been in rut since early this morning.”_ A meaningful silence settled throughout the room.

“But how could _that_ have anything to do with _this?_ ” Tony objected, “the rooms are sound proof, scent proof, every kind of proof imaginable!”

Bruce’s face screwed up in thought, “well...there is one explanation. But it’s highly unlikely.”

“Spit it out, then,” Sam said impatiently, eyeing you anxiously.

“Her and Barnes are...true mates.”

“What,” you deadpanned, wincing in pained arousal as another torrent of slick gushed out of you.

“I thought that was a myth,” Steve said, clearly uncomfortable about what was being said of his best friend. “Like unicorns and leprechauns.”

“It has more scientific basis than one would think,” Bruce explained. “It’s a biological predisposition, as the physical and mental compatibility of both mates draws them to one another.”

“So, basically, soulmates,” Clint simplified.

“Yes, and no,” Bruce shrugged, “It’s not some sort of magical connection, just biological compatibility. Although studies have shown that over ninety eight percent of true mates end up in a happy bond.”

“That’s sweet and all, but that doesn’t explain what happened,” Tony snarked.

 _“Suppressants of any kind are nearly useless when it comes to true mates. Whether its physical barriers or hormonal blockers.”_ FRIDAY piped in, _“Scent suppressants are significantly weakened while the mates are in each others presence. And cycle suppressants are nullified when one mate goes into heat or rut, triggering the others respective cycle.”_

“So we’ll just keep them separate until it’s over,” Steve decided. “They can…” he blushed, “get through it alone.”

 _“Not exactly,”_ FRIDAY opposed, _“the mates will be desperate to reach one another, going to any lengths to be united. Eighty percent of mates will claim one another upon the first coupling. Fifty percent will get pregnant after the first time, due to the tendency to forgo protection.”_

“Well, then,” Sam looked around, “should we just escort her to Barnes and let them—” he made an obscene gesture, “—take care of each other?”

“Did you listen at all to what FRIDAY said? There is a huge consent issue here,” Tony pointed out, “we don’t need a Terminator JR. bouncing around the place.”

“I’m on birth control,” you objected.

“My point still stands,” Tony said firmly, “those two are staying separated.”

With wondrous comedic timing, a loud banging sounded from the floor above. As if someone was trying to break down a locked door.

“Shit,” Tony muttered, “FRIDAY, lock down everything near Barnes’ room.”

_“Got it, boss”_

“OMEGA!” Bucky roared, voice raw and possessive, “‘M COMING!”

“What an interesting choice of words,” Sam mused.

You whined at Bucky’s desperate yells, pressing your legs together for any sense of friction. The sound of his voice alone was enough to make you shudder.

“We need to get her to her room,” Natasha said, taking charge. Slinging your arm over her shoulder and hoisting you to your feet. You yelped in discomfort. Whimpering from the pain and because you wanted Bucky to find you more than anything you’d wanted in your entire life.

Sam darted forward and looped your other arm around his shoulder. “Keep an eye on Barnes,” he advised the rest, “don’t underestimate an Alpha in rut, especially _that_ Alpha.”

Everyone nodded solemnly, and the two of them carted you off to your bedroom, ignoring your whines of protest and dragging feet. Carrying you inside your room and dumping you unceremoniously on the bed.

As soon as your back hit the mattress you were pulling off your top, shucking off your pants without an ounce of self consciousness. Desperate to cool down your burning hot skin.

“You couldn’t have waited?” Sam grumbled, but his teasing tone did little to hide his worry.

Natasha glanced around the room, ensuring you had everything you needed to be comfortable. Nodding approvingly at the fully stocked kitchenette, comfortable bed, bathroom, and the multitude of toys stashed in the bedside drawer.

“I could’ve lived my whole life without seeing that,” Sam complained, averting his eyes from the almost overflowing drawer. Natasha glared at him, and Sam held his hands up in submission. Nobody wanted to be on Nat’s bad side.

Natasha filled a glass with icy cold water and placed it on the nightstand. “If you need anything, talk to FRIDAY.” You were too far gone to answer, but you nodded nonetheless.

The two Avengers shared a worried glance before leaving the room, ordering FRIDAY to lock the door behind them.

The second they left you practically ripped off your sopping wet panties. Quickly diving to the side and rummaging through the nightstand drawer, grabbing your favorite fake knot and turning it on. The mechanical vibrations were delicious, even more so when you spread your legs apart and teased your slicked opening with the toy’s tip.

“Fuck,” you muttered, throwing your head back against the pillows as you plunged the knot in deeper. All you knew was the insatiable ache that throbbed between your legs like a beating heart, a burning need that was impossible to quench. Well, you knew exactly what—or more so, who—could satisfy you.

“Bucky,” you sighed, closing your eyes tightly as you brought down a hand to rub at your sensitive clit. Gasping at the sparks of pleasure that ran through your veins as you toyed with your swollen bud. “Fuck, _Bucky_.”

You pushed the dildo in and out, whining and moaning shamelessly as the fake knot at the base began to swell and drag against your soaked walls. With one final thrust, the knot caught. Swelling up and locking the fake dick inside you. You let out a stuttered gasp as you came, your fluids leaking out from around the rubber shaft.

And yet it still wasn’t enough. The flaming desire was tamed for now, but soon you’d be a quivering, yowling mess once more. You’d trade anything to be getting the real thing.

The fake knot shrank back down and you pulled the dildo out, groaning as a wave of slick and come poured out from your hole. You took the vibrating shaft and pressed it against your throbbing clit, moaning in delight at the wondrous sensation it elicited.

A quiet tapping sounded from the ceiling above you, distracting you from your ministrations. Someone on the second level was knocking against the floor, trying to grab your attention. A deep rumble came after, sounding as if someone was speaking, though you couldn’t make out the words.

“Bucky?” You called softly, holding your breath in anticipation. Hoping that if it was in fact Bucky, his enhanced senses would let him hear you. “Knock twice if yes.”

Two knocks reverberated through the ceiling in confirmation, and you squirmed with delight.

If you were in your right mind you might’ve felt embarrassed, may have felt shameful over how your feelings were so out in the open. But right now, you were running off of base instincts and horniness alone. “Did you hear all that, Bucky?” You crooned, sitting up against the headboard. “Heard me calling your name so desperately?”

Two knocks sounded from above.

“Fuck, that’s hot,” you groaned, swiping a finger through your folds experimentally, a pleasurable tingling starting up again. “Tell me, were you touching yourself up there? Imagining what you’d be doing if you were down here with me?”

Two knocks.

“Mhm,” you breathed, fingers delving in deeper, swiping your thumb across your clit, “Bet you’d push me down and slide that thick, Alpha cock right in. Split me in half with the damn thing. I bet you’re absolutely hung.”

* * * *

_“What do we do with them?”_

_“Just keep them apart, stay on watch. Make sure neither of them break out.”_

_“I still think we should just let them fuck each other.”_

_“Shut up, Sam.”_

* * * *

You added another finger, grunting from the pleasurable stretch. You unclasped your bra and threw it across the room, rubbing at your hardened nipples and kneading the supple flesh. “Shove your face between my thighs and get me off with your tongue. Get your pretty face all nice and dirty.”

* * * *

_“Things are awfully quiet now.”_

_“Betcha Barnes found something to keep him occupied.”_

_“Don’t talk about Bucky that way.”_

_“Geez, can’t a guy make a joke?”_

_“You lost those privileges a long time ago, Sam.”_

* * * *

You moaned loudly, putting on a show for your listener upstairs. “Put that fancy metal arm to use and fuck me with it, bet you’d be real good at it, too. Know just what to do to make a gal scream.” Your breaths came faster as you got closer to the edge, “fuck, I’m close. Are you?”

Two hard knocks.

“Oh yeah, fuck,” you moaned shamelessly, bucking your hips up into your fingers. “God, Bucky. Fuck.” Your mouth lolled open, a thin line of drool dripping down your chin. “Oh god, _Alpha,_ ” you came with a loud cry all over your fingers. Completely soaking through the duvet

Sharp tapping came through the ceiling, and even in your pleasure fogged mind you could recognize Morse code when you heard it.

* * * *

_“Things are quiet, too quiet.”_

_“Paranoid much, Cap?”_

_“No wait, listen. Do you hear that?”_

_“I don’t—wait a minute. Yeah, I do.”_

_“It sounds like…knocking?”_

_“It’s Morse code.”_

_“What’s it say?”_

_“O-M-E-G-A. O-M-E-G-A. M-I-N-E.”_

_“They’re communicating.”_

_“Stubborn bastards, the both of them.”_

_“Shush, there’s more.”_

_“G-O-I-N-G. T-O. M-A-K-E. Y-O-U. F-E-E-L. S-O. G-O-O-D. G-O-I-N-G. T-O. F-I-L-L. Y-O-U. W-I-T-H. M-Y. P-U-P-S.”_

_“Kinky.”_

_“Shut up, Tony.”_

_“I-M. C-O-M-I-N-G. D-O-W-N. F-O-R. Y-O-U. S-W-E-E-T. O-M-E-G-A.”_

_“Well shit.”_

* * * *

Bucky was coming for you. _Your Alpha was coming for you._

You keened happily in anticipation, gathering everything soft in your room and placing them on the bed. Beginning the painstaking process of nest making. You fussed over the most minute of details, tearing apart the nest and putting it back together to your liking. Everything had to be absolutely perfect for your Alpha.

Just as you put the last piece in place, you were once more overcome with agonizing cramps. You clambered into the center of the nest, burrowing beneath the blankets and whimpering in pain. Humping against the mattress as a wave of burning heat and desire ran through your veins like molten lava.

A loud crash sounded from the floor above you, and you smiled at the sound. Knowing that your Alpha was making his way to you. You listened to the fighting going on upstairs, practically vibrating with delight as the battle grew closer and closer.

 _“Ms,”_ FRIDAY called out to you, startling you out of your lust filled stupor. _“Mr. Stark wishes to speak with you over the speakers.”_

“Okay,” You said huskily, rubbing your core against the pillows like a horny dog.

“Hey, Mother Goose,” Tony said to you, voice coming from the hidden speakers in the room. “We’ve got a situation with your friend over here, and—”

“He’s coming for me,” you said dreamily.

“Oh?”

“I asked him to,” you answered, breath hitching as your clit bumped against the pillows just right.

“Can you tell him to, I don’t know, stop?” The sound of a repulsor firing punctuated his words, as well as a long string of creative cursing.

“Why would I do that?” You asked poutily.

“Because Barnes here is about to rip us all apart!” He ended the sentence with a yelp, the sound of Bucky’s mechanical arm clicking and whirring echoing over the speakers.

“Give me my Omega!” Bucky’s voice bellowed. You could hear him over the speakers, as well as somewhere off in the distance.

“Alpha,” you sighed.

“Oh fuck—listen, Goosey. He’s not your Alpha.”

“He’s not?” You said confusedly.

“Its just hormones fucking with your brain, it’s not real.”

“Not—“ your hips stilled against the mattress, your arousal dissipating with Tony’s words. “But Bruce said—”

“We don’t know for sure about that ‘true mate’ stuff. You’re both being influenced by pheromones, neither of you actually want this.”

“He doesn’t?” You whimpered, tears welling in your eyes at this new information.

Another voice came over the speakers, Natasha’s, “Tony did you really just say that!? Do you know anything about what those two feel—“

“I have a pretty good idea, thank you very much!”

“You really don’t!” Sam butted in. “Listen, Barnes told me—“

“Sam, don’t violate Bucky’s trust like that!” Steve cut him off.

“It’s not like he’s even listening to me right now!” Sam grunted, “he’s more focused on kicking my ass!”

“I can’t believe I’m the one saying this, but stay focused guys!” Clint’s voice this time.

You heard them yell at one another, but the words were lost on you. All you knew was that your world was falling apart right in front of you. Your dominant Omega side determined that not only had your Alpha rejected you, but your pack had as well. Especially since they were all arguing because of you.

You knew it. You knew they all secretly hated you.

You broke down in hiccuping sobs, crying loudly as you mourned what you had lost. The cocktail of hormones running through your brain made you overly emotional, and you couldn’t hold back the tears if you tried. Tears and snot flowed down your face in a messy waterfall, staining the sheets even further as you buried your face in the blankets. The thick fabric doing little to muffle your cries.

“Oh _shit,_ ” someone said over the speakers, right before Bucky let out a blood curdling, gut wrenching _roar._

* * * *

There were a lot of things annoying Bucky right now. The painful hard on in his pants, the people standing between him and his Omega, their annoying chatter as they spoke to one another. All of it made his blood boil and eyes narrow.

All he wanted was to find you—his Omega—and hear those sweet sounds you had made earlier fall from your lips. Only this time, he’d be the one making you moan and cry out like that. Not some fake, manufactured knot that was nothing compared to the real thing.

But there were people standing in his way, and he wouldn’t have that. He tore through their ranks with brutal efficiency, slowly but surely making his way to your room. Their efforts were futile, and soon he’d have what he most wanted in his grasp.

You.

When he heard your voice come over their comms he’d almost purred, your soothing voice acting like a balm on his heated skin. Hearing how his Omega was waiting for him made him fight harder, made him more vicious. He had to get to you. He _had_ to.

But then his Omega began to cry.

“Oh, _shit_ ,” Stark swore, raising his gauntlets as he saw Bucky’s expression shift to something downright dangerous.

His Alpha side was seething with rage, crying out for blood. They’d made you cry and he wasn’t there to comfort you. _They were keeping him from comforting you._

He lost it. Letting loose a guttural roar that would scare even the toughest of Alphas. His opponents took a step back in fear, even those who had been hardened by battle and war looked intimidated.

“You hurt her,” he growled. Baring his teeth in a fearsome snarl.

“Take it easy,” Tony said, attempting to de-escalate, “nobody’s hurting anyone.”

“You’ve been hurting her.” Bucky insisted, gnashing his teeth like a rabid dog who’d been cornered.

“What are you talking about?” Steve asked, cautiously approaching Bucky as not to startle him.

“Ask her,” he spat. Sick of how everyone always made assumptions. Assuming they knew what was best, both for him and his Omega.

The group grew silent, listening to your heaving sobs. His heart ached at each whimper, longing to gather you up in his arms and make the pain go away.

Natasha softly called your name, “what’s wrong?”

“Y-You all hate me,” you cried quietly over the comms, voice muffled as you had undoubtedly buried yourself in your blankets.

“No ‘Mega,” Bucky cooed, “I don’t hate you,” he reassured. “Don’t listen to them, I’m coming for you.”

“Promise?” You whimpered, asking so sweetly he just couldn’t say no.

“Promise,” he echoed.

“Nobody here hates you,” Natasha said soothingly. “Right, guys?” Agreement echoed around the room, reassuring words and promises that eased your crying.

“No one hates you, Goose. But we still have to deal with this guy over here,” Tony fired up his repulsors and aimed at Bucky’s chest, but was interrupted when Natasha turned towards him, whispering something that made him lower his weapons. “Well why didn’t you say that in the first place?” Natasha glared at him. “I know. Right to privacy, blah blah blah.” More glaring. “Okay, I get it! Go get your girl, Buckaroo.”

“Do good by her, James,” Natasha said protectively, a note of warning to her words.

He nodded solemnly, rushing past them to his Omega’s room. Throwing himself against the door and knocking insistently against it.

“Hello?” You called softly from inside your room, voice hoarse from crying. “Who’s there?”

“It’s me, ‘Mega,” he rumbled, clutching the locked doorknob in his hand. God, he could smell you. Sweet lavender and lemongrass, and a sugary edge that signified your heat. “please let me in.”

“FRIDAY, unlock the door,” you ordered.

A soft click sounded as the lock turned, and he was in.

* * * *

“Who’s there?” You called. But you already knew the answer; Bucky. You could smell his intoxicating Alpha musk even from behind the door. The scent alone making you drool.

“It’s me ‘Mega,” he answered, his husky voice making your pulse skyrocket. “Please let me in.”

He didn’t even have to ask. “FRIDAY, unlock the door.”

The door was almost immediately thrown open, revealing the Alpha that your mind and body longed for. God, he looked so wonderfully perfect. Hair disheveled and shirt rumpled, face flushed and pupils blown wide with lust. Inky dark pools instead of his signature metallic grey. His vibranium hand was clutching the doorframe, the wood beginning to splinter under his tight grip. His chest heaved with labored breaths, salty trails of sweat dripping down his perfectly sculpted cheek. His scent had increased tenfold upon entering, overwhelming your hyperactive senses. Sage, fresh leather, and an underlying earthy spice that betrayed his rut. If that wasn’t enough to seduce you, the impressive bulge straining against his sweatpants certainly was.

“Bucky,” you said dreamily, beckoning him over with an enticing wave of your hand. Settling yourself so you were leaning up against the headboard.

He lurched forward as if you were pulling him on a string, slamming the door behind him. He climbed into bed and crawled towards you, clambering atop your lap and straddling your hips with his thighs.

For a moment you both were still, entranced by one another’s presence.

“Tell me to leave, and I will,” he whispered, the last shred of his rational mind coming through.

“Stay,” you implored softly. “I’m on the pill. I’m clean. Please.”

“Can’t catch or give anything, benefits of the serum,” he breathed a laugh, “though it’s a shame, you’d look beautiful round with my pups.”

You keened at his words. “Alpha, _please_.”

And with that, the quiet moment snapped like a rubber band. You both surged forward at once, lips slotting together in a desperate kiss.

It was everything and nothing like you expected. Noses bumping and teeth clashing clumsily as you connected in a whirlwind of movement. But you both soon found your rhythm. Tongues moving in a languid dance as your lips pressed against one another. Fitting together perfectly, as if you were made for each other.

You tugged urgently at the hem of his shirt, and he quickly got the memo. Pulling away for one torturous second to strip it off, tossing the balled up shirt to the corner of the room. He pressed his now bare chest against yours, moving in for another bruising kiss.

You moaned into his mouth as his skin met yours, the blessed contact wicking away the burning heat of your skin. You wrapped your arms around him, pressing your palms against the muscled planes of his back. Hips rising instinctually to hump against his clothed crotch, your slick rubbing off on his grey sweatpants.

“You have any idea what you’re doing to me, ‘Mega?” He groaned against your lips, thrusting his hips to meet yours in a chase for friction. Fingers curled around your waist, grip so tight it would undoubtedly leave bruises. “How much you’ve been driving me crazy?” He kissed a trail down your jawline to the hollow of your throat, licking and sucking at the heated skin. Mouth tracing your collarbone, dipping between the valley of your breasts.

“ _Bucky_ ,” you whined, nails digging into his back. Everything felt so _good_. It was as if a fire burned within your gut, its flames exacerbating every sensual touch. A monster within your chest calling for _more more more._ You humped up against him mindlessly, mind fuzzy with the deep seated urge to _fuck_. To rut shamelessly against something until you came.

But you knew deep within the recesses of your brain that it wouldn’t be enough. That you needed to be knotted to find any semblance of relief.

“Oh hell,” he whispered roughly, rolling one of your pert nipples between his metal fingertips. The shockingly cold vibranium made you gasp, the inhalation of breath quickly shifting to a shameless moan. “Listen to that.”

You whimpered in pleasurable pain as he tweaked your nipple, laving his tongue over the peak in order to soothe the ache. He locked his lips around your pebbled nipple, applying a gentle suction that made you arch your chest up into his mouth. He massaged your other breast with his opposite hand, metal arm smoothing down your side. Blissfully cool against your burning, sweat slick skin.

He released your nipple with a wet pop, switching to the other and latching on. Tongue swirling over the rapidly hardening nub.

You groaned impatiently, thumping him on the back to make him move faster.

He smiled against your breast, pulling back to look at you cheekily, “you’re a feisty little thing, aren’t ya?”

You huffed, “have you even met me?”

He chuckled roughly and once more applied his lips to your skin. Trailing open mouthed kisses down to your navel, leaving dark bruises in his wake. He nipped at the skin just below your belly button, making you squirm.

He gripped your legs and spread them nice and wide, pressing his lips up against the skin of your upper thigh. Moving torturously closer to your soaking wet pussy.

“Gonna give you just what you asked for,” he breathed huskily, warm breath ghosting over your folds in a way that made you shiver.

“Oh god. Yes, please. Please, Bucky. Alpha,” you babbled, head falling back against the pillows.

Without warning he licked a strip between your folds, the wet drag of his tongue making you cry out in mindless pleasure. Your eyelashes fluttered as you tilted your hips up towards his mouth, silently begging for more.

He closed his lips around your aching clit, tongue circling around the sensitive bud. You moaned and gasped as pleasure ran through you like electrical sparks, wrapping a hand in his hair and pulling him even closer. His lips traced down your sodden folds, tongue darting out to lap at the slick that poured out of you like a waterfall.

All of a sudden, he dived forward and speared you with his tongue. The muscle flexed deliciously inside you, making you scream unashamedly in delight.

Bucky hummed lowly, the subtle vibrations making you shudder. He brought his metal fingers to your clit, brushing across the sensitive bundle of nerves with the pad of his thumb. You bucked up into his mouth, but he placed his hands on your hips and held you down, slowly bringing you to the edge with laser focus.

“Oh fuck, I’m gonna come,” you gasped in warning. And just in time, too. As one last flick of his tongue had you plummeting over the edge. Stars dancing in your eyes as you came all over his face.

He pulled away with a sated grin, licking his glossy lips sensually. Face shining with your come, fluids dripping down his light stubble.

He moved back up towards your face, pressing his lips to yours in a quick peck, letting you taste your slick on him. “So good for me, ‘Mega.” He praised. Diving in for a deeper, more passionate kiss.

You wrapped your legs around his waist and turned over, moving so that you were on top and he was pressed down against the mattress. “Now it’s my turn,” you purred. Kissing down his neck and wrapping your lips around his scent gland. Applying soft suction but not breaking the skin.

“ _Fuck_ ,” he groaned, head lolling back from the rush of hormones that ran through him. He blinked at you lazily as you continued to move downward, placing a lingering kiss where his metal prosthetic fused into flesh.

You trailed further down, tugging down his sweatpants and salivating at the prominent bulge in his boxers. You palmed at his crotch, relishing in the way he moaned and pressed up into your hand. You moved forward and nuzzled into his thigh, mouthing at the seam of his boxers and smiling at the way his muscles bunched and tensed.

Gingerly, you grabbed the elastic waistband and pulled the boxers off. Biting your lip at the straining erection that bounced against his stomach. God it was fucking big. You wrapped your hand around the shaft, sliding from base to head in a long twisting motion.

“God, yes,” he groaned loudly, “more.”

Well, you weren’t one to deny him.

You continued the slow, even motions, gradually adding speed and pressure until he was a begging mess. Precome leaking from the tip in a steady, thick stream. You leaned forward and lapped at the head, opening your mouth and slowly taking him in.

“Oh, oh, _fuck!_ ” He yelled hoarsely, pressing up into the wet suction.

You bobbed your head, stroking the velvety underside with your tongue and humming in the back of your throat. Reaching forward and massaging his balls with your knuckles, rubbing gently against them and enjoying the way he bucked and moaned. Watching him come undone with half lidded eyes.

Ever the tease, you pulled away before he could finish. Placing a quick kiss to the leaking tip before rising up.

“Oh, you tease,” he grumbled, watching entrancededly as you straddled his hips.

You smirked coyly, grabbing his cock and wiggling your hips as you prepared to slide down, “ready?”

“Oh fuck yeah,” he answered enthusiastically, grabbing onto your hips and squeezing encouragingly.

You slowly guided him into you, the both of you moaning as he slid inside with no resistance. For a moment you just stayed there, adjusting to the stretch and the wondrous feeling of being so full.

But soon the both of you grew impatient. You rolled your hips in one fluid motion, groaning lowly as his cock dragged along your fluttering walls.

You soon lost yourself in sensation, snapping your hips against his as you chased after your release. One hand resting on his pec and the other rubbing your clit, your head tossed back in ecstasy, breasts bouncing as you moved at a steady pace.

Bucky’s hands roamed over your skin indulgently. Cupping your breasts, tracing over your curves, squeezing your hips and matching your pace. He muttered incoherently, a jumbled mix of praise and profanity that only made you move faster.

“Fuck, yes. So good, Omega. ‘Mega, yes. Mine. All mine. God, you’re so beautiful like this. Oh god, fuck.”

He gripped your hips and rolled you over, settling between your legs and driving into you. Pinning your hands over your head and draping himself over you like a blanket, forehead pressing against your own.

Your breaths mingled together, the both of you staring into each other’s eyes as he continuously thrusted into you. Fingers rubbing at your clit in a steady circling motion that made you moan. He pressed his lips to yours in a passionate kiss, nipping at your lower lip and swiping his tongue over it to soothe the pain.

“I’m close,” he whispered against your lips.

“Me too,” you gasped. “Alpha, knot me. Claim me. Make me yours.”

“Fuck, Omega. Yes,” he groaned. “Yes, of course.” He wrapped his lips around your scent gland and bit down, breaking through the skin and permanently mixing your scents together. _Claiming you._

And with that, you were done for. Coming harder than you ever had in your life, your vision whiting out from the blinding pleasure. Eyes rolling and toes curling from the electrical shocks of pleasure running down your spine.

“ _Alpha_ ,” you keened. Darting forward and biting down on his gland as well, claiming him as your own.

As soon as your teeth punctured his skin, he came. Knot swelling and locking inside you, painting your walls with streaks of come. There was just so much of it, your combined fluids leaking out from around the seal of his knot. He groaned low in his throat, pressing his nose into your skin and drinking your scent from the source. He rolled the two of you onto your side, curling up in the center of your nest and tucking your head beneath his chin.

“Alpha. My Alpha,” you cooed tiredly, burrowing into his chest and breathing him in. “I love you.”

He tensed slightly at your admission, but he wrapped his arms loosely around you and pulled you close. “Love you too, ‘Mega.”

“Really?” You asked disbelievingly. Now that you had gotten knotted, rational thought was slowly returning to you. While you certainly didn’t regret what had happened, the possibility of Bucky regretting it was almost too much to bear.

“I think I’ve loved you since I met you,” he whispered, tilting your head up so you were looking at him. A loving, gentle smile on his face.

“Me too,” you breathed. “God, me too.”

Slowly, the space between you closed until you were kissing once more. Soft and full of emotion, pouring everything you felt into the kiss.

The two of you reluctantly pulled away, foreheads resting against one another, breathing in each other’s air.

“Ever heard of true mates?” You asked, preparing to break the news to him.

“Yeah,” he answered, raising a brow, “why?”

“According to Bruce we are. True mates, I mean. We’re true mates ” you babbled, scared of his reaction.

“Huh, that explains a lot,” he smiled even wider, “so you’re my soulmate, then.”

“Well, yes and no.”

“Soulmate,” he repeated, pressing a quick kiss to your lips. “My soulmate.”

You melted at his words, pressing closer and kissing him once more. Pulling away only to say, “you know, I would’ve picked you anyway. Soulmates or not.”

“Same here, doll.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! I may add on to this at some point, but for now it works as a stand alone. Please leave a kudos or comment if you enjoyed!


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